


All the Gold He Needed

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Athlete Arthur, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, M/M, Merlin Olympics, Sexual Content, Short & Sweet, Supportive Merlin, Sword-Throwing, Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Arthur Pendragon, seven-time Olympian in Sword-Throwing, is seeking to set a record, but what he receives is so much more important. As he has learned over the years, winning makes a statement and gives one prestige, but it is only one small part of life.





	All the Gold He Needed

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Pelydryn for the beta--I have changed/added/deleted many things since, so any mistakes are my own.
> 
> So many kudos to the mods for running this fest - it has been such fun participating!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Merlin and the Olympics belong to their respective creators. Any resemblance to real life people or events is accidental. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement of Merlin or the Olympics is intended.

Arthur glanced up at the darkening sky and noticed that the sun—battling mightily with the thickening clouds to remain visible—was nearing its zenith. 

It was time to begin warming up.

“You should go,” Merlin said reluctantly as he removed Arthur’s hands from his face and took a step back. “The last thing you need today is for your father to get upset with you because of me.” He gave those familiar hands within his one final squeeze before letting go.

Arthur wasn’t ready to leave, but he knew that what Merlin said was true—he needed to focus on the task at hand—but that didn’t make leaving any easier. He closed his eyes and nodded solemnly, already missing Merlin’s gentle, calming touch.

“Relax, Arthur. You’re too tense. I know you’re worried, but you’ve prepared most of your life for this moment.” Merlin turned and began walking away, but he stopped, looked back, and smiled as he gave Arthur a thumbs-up. “Oh, and I dreamt last night that you were standing on the podium, another gold medal around your neck, so no need to fret.” That said, a smirking Merlin walked towards the lake.

All Arthur could do was smile. Merlin truly was the best thing that ever happened to him. There weren’t enough gold medals in the world to equal Merlin.

Shivering, he quickly walked past the grandstand that was filled to capacity with his father’s subjects: noblemen and commoners alike. He should have begun warming up fifteen minutes past but had been _distracted_. 

The king would be most displeased if he found out.

Arthur blew into his hands and breathed into them, trying to warm them as he sped up his movements, but he frowned and slowed his pace when he heard the familiar Irish-lilt of his half-sister’s voice. Hadn’t she been replaced the day before? Arthur knew she had—something about her making a crude comment about one of the competitors from Essetir—but, as she always did, she seemed to have talked her way back into the booth.

Arthur shook his head in wonder and amazement as he glanced up towards The Lady Morgana. How was it that she almost always got what she wanted? She could, it would seem, offend the whole of Albion by disparaging someone she didn’t agree with and for her insubordination be reprimanded with a slap on the wrist and an _as you were_. 

In contrast, Prince Arthur, the heir to the throne of Camelot, received the wrath of all if he deigned to be anything less than flawless.

For once Arthur fervently wished to be treated just the same as his half-sister. It was a ludicrous thought, one that would no doubt change as quickly as the wind direction, but until that happened Arthur would sulk. He was entitled to that one small indiscretion, wasn’t he?

All Morgana had to do was bat her long, pretty eyelashes and people bowed to her every whim.

All Arthur had to do to get what he wanted was to do what his father told him and as his kingdom asked of him, and continue to bring home two gold medals every four years.

It was a hefty ask and an even heftier price to pay, but one Arthur had done without fail or complaint for the past seven Olympics. Not because of the accolades for himself or for his father’s kingdom, or for the fame, but because it was the only way his father paid him any attention.

Where his sister had (from the moment she came to live with them) his father wrapped around her pinky finger like a dog on a short lead, Arthur had always been on the outside looking in. 

He had long despaired that he’d forever be a disappointment to his father, but one fateful day at the age of eight as he’d been mimicking his father, trying to gain the king’s attention, he had done that very thing. 

He had taken a sword and thrown it an extraordinarily long way.

And his life hadn’t been the same since.

To an outsider, such an act would have meant nothing, but to the seven-time-gold medalist in Sword-Throwing, Uther Pendragon, it had been as if gold had been discovered all over again.

From that day forward, Arthur’s father had showered his son with attention. He had begun to groom his heir to not only follow in his footsteps and one day become King of Camelot, but to also carry on the legacy of sword-throwing. Such attention from his father had been all Arthur had ever wanted, but it had come at a price.

From that day forward, Morgana had been jealous of him. Of course she denied it, but there was no doubt she coveted the time her father and Arthur spent together. She loved her brother and continued to get on well enough with him, but Arthur knew that she would love nothing more than for him to no longer be the one his father _showered with praise_.

Arthur let out a hearty sigh at the thought. Praise was not exactly what his father showered him with. It was more like criticism. He had never nor would he ever be quite good enough in his father’s eyes.

 _Showered with praise_ indeed.

Yes, there were congratulations when the results turned out well, but it was hardly a warm, fuzzy Uther Pendragon that greeted his son after the competitions. And when there were no competitions to prepare for, Arthur was lucky to get a _Hello son, how was your day?_

As Morgana continued her commentary, Arthur thought that she shouldn’t be the least bit jealous; he had absolutely nothing that his half-sister should want. But he did thank the gods that she was into females. Otherwise he would worry that she wanted Merlin.

“More than four hundred years ago, in Slovenia, the first Sword-Throwing competition was staged at the Summer Olympics. This event proved such a success that it was decided that it would be implemented in the following Winter Olympics, and to this day Sword-Throwing is the only event that is in both Olympic Games, and it has become the premiere event of the Summer and Winter Games that take place every four years. Who would have thought back in the year 124, when the citizens were throwing swords into the lake as votive offerings, that the art would grow into what it has become today? I think it is safe to say that those people would be proud of what they started. I know my father, the King of Camelot, and my brother, Prince Arthur, certainly must be thankful for such.”

As she began speaking about dignitaries that were in attendance, Arthur attempted to tune her out as he continued on his way to the ready room, where everyone else would be congregated, preparing for the final throw of the competition. When he got to the tent he threw open the flap and immediately began his mental exercises, silently repeating a mantra his father had hammered into his head more than twenty years earlier.

Arthur needed to be in top form today if he hoped to throw out a huge number that would be unmatchable. A year earlier he would not have worried, but now doubt and worry filled his head because of the new _phenomenon_ from the neighboring kingdom. Cenred, a young up and coming sixteen year old who was far better at that age than Arthur could have ever dreamt about being in his first Olympics, was making waves in the world of sword-throwing and was poised to become the next big thing.

He was also in first place after four throws.

For Arthur to win his eighth gold medal it would take a record throw and a colossal meltdown from Cenred. It could happen, but Arthur wasn’t holding his breath.

Arthur tried to clear his mind again; he could not afford to let Cenred get into his head.

“… has come for the 530 Olympics Sword-Throwing final. It is a cloudy, damp and frigid day here in beautiful Camelot, with a strong gale coming in off Lake Avalon. The conditions are not ideal, but I think we are in for a delectable treat today, and perhaps the record that was set thirty years ago by Uther Pendragon will at long last be broken.”

“Yada, Yada, Yada,” said Gwaine as he continued his pre-competition routine, swinging his arms back and forth and arching his back. “I thought Gwen was taking over announcing duties. Didn’t the FKOC ban Morgana from any further participation because of those remarks she made?” he asked Percival, who had begun his warm-ups across the tent, his biceps flexing impressively as he lifted a huge weight as if it were nothing.

“Don’t know,” Percival said as he set down the weight and sat on the bench, “but I couldn’t care less about her. My only concern is that we best Cenred. Did you hear that he broke his kingdom’s record last month?” Percival then began wrapping his left ankle.

“Ppft,” piped in Arthur as he cleared his throat and removed his shirt before beginning to stretch his back, showing off his bronzed-pecs. “I could beat him in my sleep. He might be the best thing in the other four kingdoms, but I am the best here in Camelot, and as we are on familiar ground, Cenred doesn’t stand a chance. You two will also be on the podium with me; we’ll sweep the medals,” Arthur said confidently. But his words didn’t reflect his nervous stomach.

Gwaine let out a laugh and shook his head. “Confident, are we, Pendragon? Percival beat your time twice in the past month, and you’ve seen me in practice. Everyone says my time has come. Face it, Princess, you might have been the best for sixteen years, but your time has come and gone, old man.” Gwaine threw a flannel over to Arthur. “It’s time to let the boys win, don’t you think?” His eyes twinkled with mirth.

Arthur rolled his eyes and grinned, giving Gwaine the two-finger salute as he nodded.

Gwaine, one of the best knights Camelot had ever seen, was all talk, and everyone knew it. He was also the best at getting Arthur fired up before competitions. His tactics were ruthless, but they’d always worked, so Gwaine and Arthur didn’t see any reason to change them now, no matter how heartless they seemed to outsiders. 

And no matter how true his words were.

Arthur was getting on up in years and was no longer at the top of his game; it took him longer these days to get himself ready to compete. But he wasn’t quite ready to give up his throne yet.

He’d told everyone these would be his final games and Arthur planned on sticking to that, even as he was already beginning to miss everything about sword-throwing. As he looked over at Gwaine, who was nowhere near as young as Cenred, but every bit as talented in only his third year of competitive sword-throwing, he found himself envying the other’s future—what Arthur wouldn’t give to have his glory days before him rather than behind.

“You wish. Your day will come, Gwaine,” Arthur said, thinking it already had.

“You can do this, Arthur. You have it in you for one more; I know you do,” Percival said as he wiped off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Arthur nodded in thanks and was about to respond when his father entered the tent. Arthur immediately tensed. He could feel the atmosphere around him thicken. How was it that one person could have such an effect on him and his fellow teammates?

“Gaius tells me you are tightening up on the release. You need to trust in your abilities, Arthur. Loosen your grip.”

“Yes, Father,” was all Arthur could say, and his father was gone almost as quickly as he’d appeared, no words of encouragement, no acknowledgement of the other team members. Arthur looked over at Gwaine and shared a commiserating glance.

**~*~**

“With one competitor left, Cenred Lot is in the lead, but don’t leave yet, Lords, Ladies, and everyone else. Arthur Pendragon has wowed us for years with his abilities, and we all know who the king was before him, don’t we? Arthur’s father was legendary in these parts. Stories of his exploits are still making the rounds at taverns across Albion. We shall soon see if the son can best the record of the father.”

“Thanks, Morgana, no pressure there. I know you would love it if Cenred beat me,” Arthur whispered as he tried to ignore his half-sister’s words and concentrate on Merlin, who was looking at him as if he could do this. Arthur nodded. Yes, he could do this. He _would_ do this.

“She is just trying to get into your mind, Arthur. Don’t let her get to you,” Merlin said as they walked out of the tent. “You can do this. I believe in you. I always have,” Merlin added before blowing Arthur a kiss. “There’s more of this whatever the outcome, but if you win, I’ll do whatever you want tonight.” Waggling eyebrows finally brought out a chuckle from Arthur.

He nodded and wished he could kiss Merlin, but they had long ago established a routine on the day of competitions that did not allow for anything too physical (no kissing or sexual activities, though hugging was allowed) before the event. It was brutal but had always worked for them, so Arthur wasn’t about to change things now. He needed all the luck he could get.

But he very much appreciated Merlin’s words and fervently hoped that he could bring home a victory for Camelot and for his trainer, Gaius, but most of all for Merlin, who had always believed in him, especially when he hadn’t believed in himself.

Twenty minutes later Arthur stood at the edge of the frozen lake, sword in hand. He stared straight ahead, but he knew that there were throngs of people surrounding the lake, and that each one of them were ready to congratulate him on a victory or heckle him if he lost.

He slowly brought the sword behind him and got into position. It was time. He rocked back and forth four times then took off and wielded the sword as far as he could.

He stood and watched with bated breath as the sword flew through the air and travelled over the frozen lake, the gales both carrying it forward and pulling it backward.“Please let it go. Keep going. Keep going,” Arthur said, coaxing the sword onward with his body.

When it landed, it was too close for the eye to tell if it was a winner or not, so Arthur watched as the official out on the lake skated over to where it had entered. It seemed to take forever, but finally the official lifted his hand and declared that Arthur had won the round and that he had set a record with his throw.

But had he done enough to beat Cenred and take the gold?

He waited. And waited. And waited. Time seemed to stop. Arthur turned his head and saw his father looking at him pensively. Then he heard a familiar gasp. Morgana.

“He has done it. Arthur Pendragon has won another gold medal!” Morgana said, her voice visibly shocked, but when Arthur looked up at her she was smiling at him, and it looked to be genuine.

There were cheers that were deafening, and Morgana was spouting off the highlights of _Arthur Pendragon’s vaunted career_ , including the fact that he had won his first and his most recent gold medals twelve years apart, a record unlikely to be repeated for _at least a thousand years _. Arthur laughed at that comment, but all he could concentrate on was Merlin, who was running towards him, the most beautiful smile on his face.__

__“I knew you could do it, Arthur. I knew it.” Merlin pumped his fist in the air. “You did it!”_ _

__Arthur nodded as he welcomed Merlin into his arms and kissed him as if it would be his last kiss ever. When they finally broke apart, Arthur let out a chuckle. “I broke my father’s record, Merlin.” Arthur was in awe and perhaps a bit of shock. He had truly thought his days of standing on the top tier of the podium were over. “I guess that dream of yours will come true.”_ _

__Merlin chuckled. “Was there ever any doubt?”_ _

__There was no need for Arthur to answer, so he didn’t. But he found himself curious as he waited for Merlin, who now looked perplexed, to say whatever was on his mind. Would it be profound or completely idiotic? Merlin was more than capable of both at any given moment._ _

__“But in my dream, the words Camelot 530 were replaced with some other name. Have you ever heard of PyeongChang?” Merlin asked, a quizzical look on his face._ _

__“Erm… don’t think so. Why?” Arthur asked distractedly as he waved at a small child who was looking up at him as if he were a god. He would never feel comfortable when that happened, but he understood it was a part of it all._ _

__“In my dream your clothing had that word on the front with the number 2018.”_ _

__“Hm,” was Arthur’s only response. He would be sure to ask Merlin more questions about his dream later, but for now he had a victory to celebrate._ _

__When they entered the tent, there were more roars of accolades and slaps on the back, and Gaius welcomed him with a hug and congratulations, but Arthur wasn’t much paying attention as he looked around the tent, searching for the one person he wanted to see more than any other after Merlin._ _

__His father._ _

__Arthur had always sought his father’s approval in all areas of his life and he still did, every second of every day. What he wouldn’t give to see his father walking through that tent flap. To hear his father telling him how proud he was of him._ _

___That_ would be worth far more than gold to Uther Pendragon’s son._ _

__That was all Arthur wanted. Then he could leave the world of sword-throwing and start the rest of his life._ _

__An hour later, Arthur made his excuses and left the tent alone. His father hadn’t shown up; he was probably with Catrina somewhere._ _

__“Congratulations, Arthur,” a pretty girl called Mithian yelled out from across the training grounds._ _

__Arthur grinned and nodded his thanks. His father had tried getting him and Mithian together, and it had very nearly worked, but then Merlin had gone and got himself injured and had nearly died, and Arthur had realised that it was Merlin he wanted to be with and not Mithian._ _

__That had been just another disappointment for his father. It seemed that Arthur was one big disappointment in the eyes of Uther Pendragon. As soon as he no longer wielded the sword to his father’s delight, he wondered if he’d be relegated to the outside again. He didn’t look forward to that, but at least now he was older and had Merlin._ _

__“Arthur?”_ _

__Arthur stopped and slowly turned around to look into the eyes of his father. “Father.”_ _

__“You took my advice,” his father said, pride evident on his face._ _

__“Yes, thanks for that. It helped. You always know how to get the best out of me,” Arthur said, meaning it, but there was more than a bit of bitterness in each word._ _

__“I don’t deserve those words of gratitude, Arthur,” Uther said sadly. “I have never tried to get the best out of you. I thought that was what I was doing, but Catrina has made me see that I have not been doing that. She tells me that I am in danger of losing you forever. Is she right?” he asked, and Arthur thought he saw his father’s chin quivering. “Please tell me I haven’t lost you.”_ _

__Unsure what he should say or do, Arthur shrugged his shoulders. What could he say to that? He shook his head. This was a no-win situation. If he told his father the truth, his father would walk off like he always did, but if Arthur lied, well, then that would be a lie. Arthur didn’t know what to say._ _

__“Before she died, Arthur, your mother begged me to love you and to let you in. She said that we could help each other. She feared I would push you away. I have, and for that I am so very sorry. You are the best of her and the best of me. I am so very proud of you and what you have accomplished. I know this is too little and too late, but I wanted you to know that I do love you and that I accept you as you are. I always have. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”_ _

__Arthur stared at his father. Still not knowing what to say. Thirty years. Arthur had spent thirty years feeling abandoned and alone. His father had given him orders and had expected much of him, but he had never given Arthur what he most wanted._ _

__Now, all of a sudden, his father wanted to make amends. Arthur thought maybe he shouldn’t accept what his father was offering, even as he wanted to, but he heard Merlin’s voice in his ear and that was all he needed to know what his next move should be._ _

__He let out a small smile. “Thanks, Father. Merlin and I are going down to the Rising Sun for a pint. Want to come with?”_ _

__Later that evening, after the three had shared a pint and had a serious conversation about Arthur and Merlin’s future, one that did not include sword-throwing, Arthur found himself shoved up against the door to his bedroom, Merlin’s tongue doing lovely things to his cock._ _

__“I didn’t get to pound you into the bed this morning, so I think you owe me that now?” Arthur asked Merlin, but he knew that Merlin didn’t need to be asked when his eyes met Arthur’s and when he slowly kissed his way up Arthur’s chest until he reached his neck. Then they were kissing as if they had never kissed before._ _

__Arthur picked up Merlin, carried him to the bed, carefully settled him onto his back, and began worshipping every inch of the pale body before him. It was the perfect ending to an unforgettable day._ _

__Yes, his future was uncertain—Arthur was leaving behind his security blanket and didn’t know what to expect now that his quest for _one more gold medal_ was over—but his father had not so many hours earlier acknowledged that he was proud of him, and when Merlin let out a moan and pulled Arthur up to meet him in another heated kiss, Arthur thought that whatever the future held, he would be more than fine. _ _

__He had all the gold he needed._ _


End file.
